


Smetana

by VKDrabs (valorikei)



Series: Order Neutral RusAme Drabbles [42]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Addiction, Food, Humor, M/M, Slice of Life, VK Drabs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 04:57:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6786169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valorikei/pseuds/VKDrabs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble #107: Pairing Order: RusAme / Rating: T / Prompt: Ivan has a little bit of a problem</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smetana

It started out slowly. Subtle little instances of quirky awkwardness that made the socially aware populace scrunch up their noses in passing disgust; small occurrences of confused bewilderment that made Alfred question his sanity. "I swear I just bought more of this…" He mumbled to himself as he peered into the mostly-empty jar, screwing the brightly colored plastic lid into its place before setting it back in the fridge.

The first time he genuinely noticed that something was amiss was on baked potato night. Ivan lounged in a poolside chair, a baggy white shirt scrunched around the hem of his swim trunks, the suburban ideal of paradise beneath a warm summer sun. Alfred grinned as he finished patting the crispy smoked bacon dry of any excess grease, crumbling it up into a bowl next to the rest of the buffet line toppings. "Oh Vannycakes~! Dindin's ready, babe!"

Ivan perked up happily and gladly trotted over, the loose ends of a light scarf trailing behind from where they hung limply over his shoulders. "Mmm, spasiibo!" He crooned through a passing kiss to Alfred's cheek and helped himself to a foil wrapped potato, Alfred splicing it open for him before grabbing one himself. Following behind Ivan down the line, Alfred was eager to spoon on tons of different toppings, completely loading his potato up with delicious goodies.

And then, he got to the bowl of sour cream. "What the–" he started in surprise, shocked to find so little left in the bowl. He knew Ivan loved the stuff even more than he did, which was why he got such a big bowl, but– "Uh, Vanya, baby, where'd all the–"

"Hm?" Ivan turned over his shoulder, blinking softly at his petrified lover when his heaping plate came into the blond's line of sight. "What's the matter?"

After that it was a whirlwind of digging through old shopping bags for ages old receipts, printing out months of credit card transactions and reports, the evidence mounting higher and higher making Alfred's stomach drop lower and lower. He uncovered the escalating truth, knowing something of this severity simply had to be stopped!

His case files gathered, Alfred knocked hurriedly on their bedroom door to alert Ivan of his oncoming arrival, his eyes wild behind wire frames as he burst through the frame. His lover winced in surprise on their bed, a dish of sour cream in his lap and a waiting bowl of fried mini pastries next to him. "Ah? Alik, what is the matter? Be gentle with the door, I dont want to have it replaced again."

"Replaced?!" Alfred sputtered with panicked indignation, hands trembly and voice a little screechy. Ivan scowled and took to sulking, dipping one of his dumplings into the cream before bringing it to his mouth, suckling it off so he could redip it. "As if we'd even have enough money to replace—stop!"

"Why are you interrupting my snack?" Ivan whined, popping the cream-smeared dumpling into his mouth anyway. Alfred suddenly rushed over and dumped all the papers he had in his arms onto the bed, snatching away the cream before Ivan could submerge another dumpling in.

"Stoppit!" He blurted out so fast the words ran together, Ivan gasping in shock as Alfred slammed the dish down on a bookshelf beyond Ivan's reach, marching back to the bed. "You have a problem, Ivan! This is serious!"

"Da, I have problem," Ivan snarled and brushed the paper aside, clambering out of bed to fetch the coveted condiment. "You just took my smetana away. What is matter with you? You don't take what is not yours!"

"Vanya, babe, no! You gotta stop!" Alfred started to tear up, the waterworks startling Ivan enough to make him comply with Alfred's desperate pleading. Alfred rushed forward and caught Ivan up in a big bear hug, sniffling into his shirt and clawing at his back. "Y-you've gotta! This can't be healthy for you! And for us! We can't keep living like this!"

"What are you talking about, silly Alyosha?" Ivan huffed, gazing longingly over Alfred's hair at the bowl of sour cream just out of his reach. "Did you watch scary food documentary, again? You know you overreact to those."

"No, Ivan," Alfred huffed sloppily with a noisy snort through his nose, trying to get his snotty blubbering under control as he pulled back. "Take a look at the receipts, okay? Vanya, snowflake. Over the past few months, do you even know how much money we've spent to support your sour cream addiction? Do you even know how much you consume in a day? This is getting out of hand!"

"Chto? All this over smetana?" Ivan frowned, his heart beating a little faster as Alfred glowered and grabbed up a packet of stapled-together papers, flipping through the before holding the page in front of Ivan's face.

"Look!" He hissed and then shoved the papers into his hands, picking up more and more as the background noise blended into a gruesome blur in his ears, ringing louder and louder. "Do you get it now?! You've— you've gotta stop doing this!"

Ivan's jaw slacked, buffered by the soft fabric of his scarf as he flittily skimmed over the text on the paper. "I…" He perked up at Alfred when his lover touched his arm, a look full of loving concern. Alfred embraced him, Ivan shakily wrapping his arms around him as well. "I have a problem, Alik…"

"I know, babe, I know… Don't worry, I still love you. We'll get through this, together."

**Author's Note:**

> Cultural context: In Russia, sour cream is a very popular sauce to put on pretty much anything you eat. Consider sour cream to be to Russians what ketchup, mustard, relish, mayo, etc etc etc is to Americans, all at once.


End file.
